


Shell

by R00bs_Teacup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Angst, Other, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/pseuds/R00bs_Teacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwaine struggles to connect with Arthur. Merlin loves everyone. Arthur meets Hunith and is nervous. Puppies play a big part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shell

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur seems preetty damaged in this one. Not sure what happened to him, Merlin says he was hurt by someone. I'm not sure whether to put WARNINGS! because there's nothing specifc, but Arthur deals with something, here. see end note for more.

The first time Arthur meets Hunith, Hunith has sheepdog puppies she's getting ready to sell. They're small, very sweet and extremely funny. Merlin makes cooing noises at them, fluffs about with them, then moves along. Been there seen that. Gwaine finds Merlin's cooing endearing and the way he pets the dogs whenever they come for attention, absently scooping them into his arms as he chats to Hunith about the fencing that needs fixing is cute. 

Gwaine plonks himself down in the pig yard where the puppies are living and throws himself into playing and petting and just burying himself in the pile of them, making himself part of the clan of tumbling, rollicking and licking creatures. They're soft and move in funny, adorable ways and yap in tiny voices and wriggle and squirm and send him into paroxysms of joy. 

Arthur arrives later, in his company town car, in his suit. Merlin and Gwaine are sat on the wall watching the dogs, and Arthur comes to join them, standing by the wall, Merlin's arm around his shoulders. Merlin's skinny, bare arm, sun-browned from gardening, shorts and bare feet a beautiful contrast to Arthur's suited form. 

“Good drive?” Merlin asks. 

“Hmm?” Arthur asks, a slightly alarmed look on his face, “the drive? It was fine, Merlin.”

Gwaine quirks an eyebrow at Merlin, but Merlin just shrugs one shoulder and asks Arthur about work. Arthur answers faster this time, a little too fast. His head's at an odd angle. One of the puppies comes up to investigate Arthur's shoes and Arthur's foot twitches. Gwaine grins. 

“Look Arthur,” Gwaine says, “puppies.”

“I had noticed,” Arthur says, trying for his usual dry sarcasm and almost getting the tone right. 

Almost. Merlin asks something about work and Arthur answers, absently. Arthur's never absent about work things. Gwaine grins harder and pokes Arthur's shoulder. 

“What?” Arthur asks, turning his head to look at Gwaine, but looking right past him. 

Gwaine still catches the twitching joy in his expression. 

“Nothin',” Gwaine says, “there's a puppy sitting on your shoe, though.”

Arthur's foot twitches again, but not enough to dislodge the puppy. And it's the wrong foot. Gwaine stifles his laughter and crouches down, clicking his tongue until another puppy comes over, sniffing Gwaine's hand. Then another. Gwaine gets the whole lot of them swarming Arthur's feet, then scoops one up and straightens, shoulder to shoulder with Arthur. 

“Look,” Gwaine says, shoving the puppy in Arthur's face, “puppy.”

“Yes,” Arthur says, uncomfortable, straightening his jacket.

The puppy wriggles and Arthur's hands jerk as if to catch it. Gwaine closes his eyes to subdue his laughter. When he opens them he look at Merlin. Merlin's watching, amused, content, and he smiles warmly at Gwaine and shakes his head, but not censoring. 

“You're holding him wrong,” Arthur snaps, suddenly, and takes the pup out of Gwaine's arms. 

Gwaine leans on the wall and watches Arthur gives in. Completely. He's not like Merlin, doesn't coo or make funny faces, and he's not like Gwaine. He holds the puppy carefully and crouches, setting it among it's fellows, then stays still and watches the dogs around him, face intent but open, joyful. Happy. He touches one of the puppy's backs tentatively, then runs his fingers over the fur, murmuring about it's softness. 

And Arthur talks to them, to the puppies. He scritches their backs and strokes them and feels their ears, lets them climb over his knees, indulges their curiosity, answering their poking wet noses with words, explaining what they're discovering, hands busy aiding their kicking legs as they try to get up into his lap. 

“Arthur's arrived,” Hunith says. 

Gwaine turns to smile at her. She stands at Merlin's back, hand on Merlin's neck, thumb rubbing the point where his neck meets his shoulder. Fond and soft and warm. 

“He has,” Gwaine says, “he's a tad distracted. We may not have much luck extracting him, you know.”

“He can sleep out here,” Merlin says, unworried, tipping his head back to see his mother's reaction. 

“Oh Merlin, you are silly,” Hunith says.

Gwaine turns back to watch Arthur instead. Arthur's shifted a little, but not a lot. He still looks pleased as punch, happy as a pig in mud, a hundred other cliches. Gwaine feels himself soften. Arthur, who wears his suit like armour, who's emotional defences are a hundred miles of solid steel, who when he got upset arranged kitchen cupboards. Arthur, who struggles so hard against all that, all those things his father taught him, sitting in the pig yard with a swarm of pups and openly happy, emotions flitting across his face in quick succession. All of them good. 

“I love you,” Gwaine says, crouching to tangle his hand in Arthur's hair at the bag, kiss his ear. 

Arthur turns to Gwaine beaming, eyes bright with innocence, not bothering to hide his excitement anymore. 

“Look at Spotty,” Arthur says, pointing to the puppy currently trying to clamber onto Arthur's shoulders, “I think this one's going to be a handful.”

Gwaine presses his nose in behind Arthur's ear and smiles, breathing, before straightening and vaulting over the wall to join Hunith. 

“Are you done for the evening?” Gwaine asks her, offering her his arm, “I would offer to help you with dinner, but-”

“You're not allowed to cook!” Merlin shouts. 

“-yes,” Gwaine says, “that. I can do dishes, though.”

“Not if it's good china,” Merlin says, jumping down to join them, “c'mon, let's get a kettle on. I want a cup of tea. Arthur, we'll be in the kitchen!”

“I suppose I'll have to wait to meet him,” Hunith says, the same amusement that Gwaine sees in Merlin showing through, “I thought for sure it would be you we'd lose to the animals, Gwaine. You're usually rolling about with them by now.”

“Nah, I'm all grown up now, Hunith,” Gwaine says. 

Hunith laughs, and Merlin loops an arm around Gwaine's waist to give him a squeeze. Once they've had tea and Merlin and Hunith are busy with dinner, Gwaine slips back out into the evening. He leans on the wall and watches Arthur, still in with the puppies. Arthur doesn't notice him for ten minutes, but then the mother dog comes and sits beside Arthur, depositing a stray pup among the crowd of them, and the two of them look like pals already. Gwaine chuckles and Arthur looks up. 

“Oh,” Arthur says, “where did Merlin go? I should go say hello to Hunith before... is it getting dark?”

“You've been out here over an hour,” Gwaine says, climbing over the wall to give Arthur a hand up, brushing the dry muck and bits of weeds and grass off him, “don't worry about it. You looked happy.”

“They're lovely,” Arthur says, softly, as if he's confiding the world's greatest secret into Gwaine's care. 

Arthur bends and lifts one of the puppies, big hands careful and gentle, bringing the dog up to his chest. It's the runt, a tiny little thing who almost fits in only one of Arthur's hands, and Arthur pets her with just two fingers, lifting her chin, letting her lick at his hands. 

“She likes the salt,” Gwaine says. 

“So small,” Arthur says, his face darkening, cradling the puppy closer, “so small.”

“Mm,” Gwaine agrees. 

Arthur smiles again, like the sun coming out, as the puppy licks his neck. He laughs, placing the puppy carefully back by her mother, pats the mother and gives her a scritch behind the ears, then turns to Gwaine. 

“Better go inside, huh?” Arthur says. 

“If you like.”

Arthur doesn't reply, just goes to slip out through the gate, keeping the puppies in the yard with care. Gwaine climbs over the gate by the hinges and joins Arthur on the drive, offering his hand for Arthur to take. Arthur lets Gwaine lead him to the orchard, up into the kitchen garden. They sit on the wooden bench there, two stumps and a plank that Merlin set up for Hunith six years ago when she started to get tired. 

“It's calm out here,” Arthur says, “quiet.”

“I miss it, though I love London,” Gwaine says, “being somewhere where you can't hear cars. That endless buzz sometimes does my head in like you wouldn't believe. Gets to a point where I can't tune it out, so I come back here.”

“To Hunith, to Merlin's mother.”

“Yes.”

Arthur nods. He still has hold of Gwaine's hand. Gwaine thinks he's trying to rebuilt all his defences before he faces the thing that is terrifying to him; Meeting the Parents. The only parent, for all three of them. Merlin's father gone, Gwaine's father dead, Arthur's mother dead. Arthur's father estranged. Gwaine's mother... well, Gwaine's not even sure where she is anymore. He left at fifteen and never looked back. It would take an effort of will to find her again. 

“I had a lunch meeting with Lancelot,” Arthur says, suddenly, as if just remembering. And he's definitely trying to pull everything back inside himself. “I talked to him about your job. He says he'll look over the contract and see if they're right. He's fairly sure that they're not. They shouldn't be able to make you work out four weeks notice on a zero hours contract if you only get three days notice from them. Like I told you.”

“Like you told me,” Gwaine agrees, nuzzling into Arthur's neck. 

Arthur pulls away, stiffening, and lets go of Gwaine's hand, pulling away from that, too. Gwaine lets him. 

“It's okay,” Gwaine says, “she won't mind.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Arthur snaps, shifting again. 

“You look like your desperate for the loo,” Gwaine mutters, irritated all of a sudden, “it won't kill you to be a little more open for once. Stop trying to go back to stone Arthur. It's not necessary.”

“I don't know what-”

“Oh shut up. I'm going back,” Gwaine says, “will you get lost if I leave you?”

“No.”

Gwaine gets up and stalks away, then stops and sighs, hanging his head. He decided long ago that he would never be able to change Arthur, never be able to untie the knots buried inside that strange, complex man. Not even if he had a thousand years. He just has to take Arthur as is, imperfections and all. Even the imperfections that infuriate him. Gwaine turns back and kisses Arthur's hair.

“Come in when you're ready, yeah? Try not to worry too much,” Gwaine says. 

Merlin's waiting for him on the porch of the front door, lit now that night's falling. He's peering into the gloom, biting his lip. He smiles when he sees Gwaine, though, and welcomes him with a half hug. 

“Arthur okay?”

“Think so,” Gwaine says, nudging Merlin's chin up with a crooked finger, sort of like Arthur did with the puppy, “may I?”

Merlin closes the distance and accepts the offered kiss, welcoming Gwaine again, pressing closer briefly. 

“Pissed you off, hmm?” Merlin says, amused again, pulling back. 

“He did. He just shuts himself down, and it's insanely annoying.”

“He needs it, babe,” Merlin says, gently, “just as you hide things behind your openness.”

“Not from you!”

“I know. Arthur... he'll get there. People hurt him, love. Deeply. He isn't all healed up yet, yeah?”

“Alright, alright, I know. Just annoying.”

“I know! I'm the most impatient person on the planet, trust me; this I understand. Is he ever coming inside? It's getting cold and dark. Stupid berk.”

Merlin bounces on his heels, peering into the darkness again. Gwaine kisses him and heads inside, not feeling like playing the waiting game. He crouches to untie his shoes and he's just heading up the stairs to the kitchen when Arthur arrives. Gwaine pauses to listen. 

“Hello,” Merlin says, “did you have fun with the puppies?”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur says, muffled, “don't kiss me, you're breath smells.”

“Right you are, sire.”

“Finally you're learning the correct form of address. Good day?”

“Yes! Brilliant day. Thank you for coming, it'll be good to have you around, too. Gwaine's such a pain.”

“You think he's eavesdropping?” 

“Probably.”

Gwaine pushes the door open and glares. They both grin at him, unrepentant, arms around one another's waists. They look like badly behaved kids. 

“Idiot,” Gwaine grumbles. 

“Dinner's ready, boys,” Hunith says, opening the kitchen door, light and heat spilling down into the hallway. 

Merlin and Arthur come inside and get out of shoes. Arthur stands, awkward, rubbing the lapel of his jacket between thumb and finger. 

“Should I...?” Arthur asks, hand not fondling his clothes falling to Merlin's bent back. 

“What?” Merlin asks, “oh, the jacket? On or off, doesn't matter.”

Arthur takes it off and folds it carefully over his arm, then jerks his tie off in a quick, impulsive movement, laying that over the tie. Gwaine takes both from him and hangs them up. Arthur reaches for them, then his hands fall to his side. Then one hand moves to Merlin's back again, rubbing small circles. 

“Right,” Merlin says, straightening, finally out of his shoes, “slippers, then let's get you introduced so we can eat.”

Merlin looks around, pushes his feet into well-worn moccasins, backs flattened. Gwaine goes up tot he kitchen ahead and helps Hunith carry things to the table. Merlin comes up next, waiting at the top for Arthur and pushing the door to behind him. 

“Mum, this is Arthur. Arthur, this is my mother, Hunith,” Merlin says. 

Finally, the historic moment, Gwaine thinks, rolling his eyes as Hunith goes to give Arthur a two handed hand shake, smiling up at him and making all the right noises about it being nice to meet him and asking him about his trip. 

“The drive was fine, the car's a very good one,” Arthur says, accent sharp, and then his ears go pink.

“Good,” Hunith says firmly, “come sit, eat. I made far too much.”

“Mum's not much of a cook,” Merlin says, dodging the tea towel Hunith flicks at him, “but she makes great pasta bakes, so we're safe tonight.”

“Go sit down you cheeky bugger,” Hunith says. 

Arthur's quiet while they eat. He sits beside Merlin, across from Gwaine. Hunith asks him a few questions but seems to recognise his shyness and doesn't push. Gwaine watches Arthur, watches his curiosity about Hunith's fondness for Merlin, the way his head tilts slightly, the way his eyes glaze a little when Merlin talks about art. Watches the way he looks quickly away when Hunith focuses on him. He has a lot of the iron clad walls back up, but not all of them. Some things are showing through. 

“Stop staring at me!” Arthur hisses across the table when Hunith gets up to go get desert. 

“I'm not,” Gwaine defends, though he was.

Arthur scowls, then Hunith reappears and Arthur's face smoothes back over to empty politeness. Gwaine kicks him under the table and Arthur kicks him back, harder, and sulks into his wine and cake, even more silent than before. 

“I need to go see to shutting the animals up for the night,” Hunith says, after they've eaten everything. “You can relocate to the living-room if you like, but the Age makes this the warmest spot in the house.”

“We'll make tea,” Merlin says, going for the kettle.

As soon as Hunith leaves Arthur glares at Gwaine and gets up to join Merlin, hand in the small of Merlin's back. Gwaine snorts and goes to flop in the window seat. 

“Would you two stop it?” Merlin snaps, after a few minutes of sulking, “this is supposed to be a nice weekend.”

Arthur must bite Merlin's ear, because Merlin lets out that distinctive yelp and Arthur scurries over to Gwaine's half of the kitchen, sitting on the sofa with an attempted look of innocence. 

“Arthur,” Gwaine says, voice strained, “I'm just... tired. Sorry.”

Arthur shrugs, then looks at his knuckles, picking at a bit of loose skin. He clears his throat three times. 

“I am aware of what you're upset about,” Arthur says, stiff and formal, “I'm working on it. But, not here.”

“Alright,” Gwaine says.

He goes to sit with Arthur, and Arthur lets him touch and even relaxes a little. 

“It feels pretty raw,” Arthur confesses, still stiff. 

“Okay,” Gwaine says. “You're forgiven, don't have an aneurysm.”

“I wish I could be what you ask of me,” Arthur says, less stiff and more wistful, “but I'm not sure what that is, or how to... get there.”

“Tea,” Merlin says, giving them both mugs, “what do you guys want to do tomorrow? Mum'll be working, she's got the market on Saturdays and that's all day, so we're entertaining ourselves.”

“River?” Gwaine suggests, “Hay on Wye?”

“Or a walk,” Merlin says, “or... pub. That's about it.”

“Arthur?” Gwaine asks. 

“Do as you please,” Arthur says, yawning and stretching, relaxed again, arm resting along the sofa back behind Gwaine's shoulders.

“I haven't been to Hay in ages,” Merlin says, eyes sparking with hope.

“As in, the place of all books?” Arthur asks, “oh go on, then. Have you're little happy party in book land.”

“Yes!” Merlin says, and sets about planning it. 

Gwaine gets into it, too, and when the two of them get going Arthur always checks out. To much talking, he says. Now he opens gets out his phone and scrolls, probably through emails, tapping away now and then as Gwaine and Merlin go on an imaginary shopping spree and wonder what new shops there'll be and fantasize about the ice cream cafe. 

“Love you, Merls,” Arthur says, out of nowhere seemingly, “but I'm tired. Mind if I get stuff out of the car and beat an honourable retreat?”

“Yeah, sure,” Merlin says, “I'll show you. Staying or coming, G?”

“I'll come along. I assume you'll wait up for Hunith, Mer?”

“Yeah. Oh, you can show Arthur, actually. Makes things easier.”

Gwaine helps Arthur carry his bags up to the guest room they've been given. It's got a big bed, white bedding, and smells of the flowers Hunith's set in the corner. Gwaine settles on the bed, ankles crossed, and tugs off his shirt, wriggles out of his trousers. 

“I'm going to read for a while,” Arthur says.

“Mm, sure. Did you bring your ipad, and can I watch GBBO on there? I've got loads to catch up on.”

Arthur settles with a lot of space between them, but while he reads he moves closer and ends up with his head in Gwaine's lap, paying more attention to the TV show than to his reading. Merlin finds them like that and laughs at them before joining them, plugging in his headphones and pulling out a paper-and-glue book. It's domestic and settled and Gwaine feels his bones settle with it, at least for now. Something he can always come back to. Home. 

And here, like this, Arthur's more open. It's not like the puppies, not the same stripped nakedness, but it's enough. Gwaine waits for Arthur to get under the covers, give up on the pretence of reading. Clicks through to the next episode and waits for Arthur to doze off, running a hand through his hair, waiting for the soft, snuffling noises that mean Arthur's asleep. 

“When I saw him with the puppies,” Gwaine says to Merlin, “I wanted that. For him, for me. Watching him shut all that back up inside? It's painful. There's so much in here that we never see.”

He taps Arthur's temple softly, then rests his hand on Arthur's head, waiting for Merlin's reply. Merlin turns a page of his book, then inserts a bookmark and puts it aside. 

“There is a lot we never see. But he can't just access that. It's not a choice, he doesn't choose.”

“I know. That just makes it worse.”

“You do the same thing. I've seen you do it. Not with me, and not, recently, with Arthur. But for a while you were as closed to him as he seems to you. I don't know if you notice the small things, the little gives in him?”

“Sometimes.”

“I can point them out, as they come, if you like. You know, falling asleep with you like this, that's a give. He used to wait for you to fall asleep before he could relax completely. Before he could even think about sleeping.”

“Oh.”

Merlin smiles and then sighs, taking the ipad from Gwaine and nudging him to lie down, spooning up behind him and nuzzling into his hair. 

“You,” Merlin says, “are amazing, and I love you. He loves you as well, I promise.”

“I know.”

“He'll say it eventually. To you, for you. I promise, love.”

Gwaine nods, linking his fingers with Arthur's. Arthur snuffles and tightens his hand around Gwaine's a moment before settling again. Gwaine smiles. Merlin gives Gwaine a squeeze, then reaches to turn off the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Arthur: He's very shut up in himself, shielded, and finds it hard to be open about things as it makes him feel 'raw'. He's pretty unsure of himself, has some self esteem things going on. Everything's from Gwaine's POV though, so there's nothing overt.


End file.
